1. |
Head
02:43
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Transparency,
Mess with my clarity.
I wanna get out of my head.
Apogee,
Mess with my sensitivities,
Just give me more misery.
I wanna get out of my head.
Traffic cones,
Switching lanes to not feel alone.
Birthed, we are all criminals.
I miss you.
I wanna get out of my head.
So sing your dirge.
Spiritual urges,
They merge.
People these day getting worse,
But I miss you.
I wanna get out of my head.
So sing me loud,
Spiritual edge is now.
Give me myself, and doubt.
I miss you.
I wanna get out of my head.
So sing me loud,
Spiritual prowess now.
Give me myself, and doubt.
I miss you.
I wanna get out of my head.
|
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2. |
||||
My legs have grown so old from it's joy and youth
Yet I'm always up for walking, swimming,
And spending hours talking with you
I kind of really love the way you are
And I want many more years to spend with you
Out in the winters while the sun's taking the afternoon
My Darling, though my pride may scare the both of us sometimes
I'll set it all aside to keep you mine
Seasons may change and this love may take some work
But if life had some sort of measure for counting all this joy and pleasure
Then mine would be full
And I want many more years to spend with you
Out in the winters while the sun's taking the afternoon
My Darling, though my pride may scare the both of us sometimes
I'll set it all aside to keep you mine
My, you're looking lovely
My, your gaze distracts me
My love, it's yours to keep
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3. |
Conceded
05:29
|
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On the seventh day,
I ran out the house.
I tried to find my sense of humor,
But I only found doubt.
I feel alone.
And on the seventh day,
I took out the trash.
I feel rational and stupid,
But I only found doubt.
I feel alone.
And Autumn catches wind of my sins,
And I just feel fine.
Let me abstain from the stains on my carpet.
My body felt sharp,
But my bullet is hard to find.
Out of design.
And close-kept corpus is the chorus they sing.
They just want to shake their rings,
Around their silver fingers.
They sing out.
And they just doubt.
I just feel so conceded,
Yet my falsehood is just good enough to know.
On the seventh day,
I ran out the house.
I tried to find my sense of humor,
But I only found doubt.
I feel alone.
And on the seventh day,
I took out the trash.
I feel rational and stupid,
But I only found doubt.
I feel alone.
And Autumn catches wind of my sins,
And I just feel fine.
And I just feel fine.
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4. |
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She is still, and I am fast.
We are stretched out on the grass.
She cries out and I don't speak.
Hide my face, so I can't peak.
Colors moving in my veins.
Move around me, flush my face.
Sky is black, my heart is blue.
I'll do what you tell me to.
She is cold, I try to help.
She tells me it is something else.
Bite my lip, and go insane.
Crack my skull, and bruise my brain.
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5. |
Otto
03:33
|
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There's a gun on my temple.
Otto's discouraged,
Completely encouraged by you.
Ravel your truths,
And soak yourself sprucely.
Is there a density which we immensely conspire?
The liar is dancing under the expletive fire.
He brings you a token,
Atonement dribbled in blood.
Stood in the aborted porch,
He's just ready for the flood.
There's a gun on my temple.
Crinkled and bleached,
Electorates just want to speak.
Everyone's murdered by their external instincts.
Stinging wasp,
Acknowledge me for I don't deserve the labels for your imbecilic fables.
And you,
Sprout my youth,
In every which way.
And you,
Are of glutton,
Let the pollen assemble.
Recognize,
My teary eyes.
I think I'll hang low,
For a day or two.
(See you soon.)
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Jacob Hutto Spring, Texas
Jacob Hutto is a Houston-based Singer-Songwriter, with experimental tendencies.
Most of Jacob's music can be found on iTunes, Spotify, Youtube, etc.
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